


Properly receptive to new ideas

by StealingPennies



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealingPennies/pseuds/StealingPennies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jason jumped up and down a bit more. He clearly wanted to be moving again. “Please Pythagoras, just one more lap. The sooner we start. The sooner we finish.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Properly receptive to new ideas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deinonychus_1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinonychus_1/gifts).



> Birthday fic for Deinonychus_1 who asked for shirtless Pythagoras and a happy ending. This has both!

**PROPERLY RECEPTIVE TO NEW IDEAS**

Pythagoras knew from personal experience that the ability to outrun an armed pursuer was an invaluable skill. Running for its own sake, however, was a completely different basket of eels.

And yet, here he was doing exactly that, and hating every minute.

Jason called it ‘keeping fit’ but he was unable to explain what it was exactly they were keeping and where it was supposed to fit. 

“Us, into our coffins, most likely,” wheezed Hercules, coming to an abrupt and purple-faced halt by the small grove of trees they’d designated their base. He pressed his hand to his side. “No further, I beg of you.” 

The front of Hercules’s tunic was soaked in sweat and his hair was plastered wetly to his scalp. 

Pythagoras was sure that he presented a similarly hot and dishevelled picture. He had, however, heeded Jason’s advice and forgone his tunic for this early morning run in the hills outside the city gates. At first Pythagoras had been self-conscious at exposing his pale flesh, clad only in light breeches and soft sandals, but he was glad of his decision now as he watched Hercules pulling at the damp fabric clinging to his chest and stomach with a grimace of disgust.

Pythagoras leaned his weight against a tree and breathed in and out deeply, his heart still beating madly, limbs trembling with exertion. The cooling sweat felt clammy on his skin.

“They run naked in Greece, you know,” said Jason suddenly. One of those random nuggets of information he was apt to come out with. Earlier, Jason had advised Hercules that if he must keep his tunic on he should rub grease onto his nipples to protect them from chafing.

Neither Pythagoras nor Hercules commented on this latest disclosure. Hercules was presumably still too short of breath to speak while Pythagoras had been rendered mute at the thought of Jason running nude. _Sweet Fates, if only…_

But then Jason might have expected Pythagoras to run naked too. And there was no way that that was ever going happen. There would be no hiding his attraction.

Anyway, Greece was Greece. Everyone knew they did things differently there.

Jason reached down for the water jugs they had prudently hidden under a pile of fallen branches and passed one to Hercules who was still so panting so hard it took him two attempts to get the water to stay in his mouth rather than dribble down the front of his chin. Jason took a deep drink from the second water jug, throwing back his head as he swallowed, and then threw it to Pythagoras who had been patiently waiting his turn.

Jason was neither breathless nor dripping. Instead he glowed with a light sheen of moisture like one of the statues of the gods seen by torchlight. If Hercules hadn’t been there Pythagoras might well have done something really stupid and embarrassing like falling to his knees on the soft pine-scented ground and kissing Jason’s feet, but as it was, he managed to restrict himself to staring and licking his salt-tanged lips possibly more than was strictly necessary. 

Jason was still running up and down on the spot, loose-limbed and full of unspent energy.

This ‘keeping fit’ was just one of the strange habits that Jason had brought over from wherever it was – Jason was very cagey on this subject – he came from. He was almost obsessive about the concept.

It had become a something of a morning ritual for Pythagoras to lie in bed pretending to be asleep while watching Jason push himself off the floor one hundred times or make complicated stabbing movements with his legs and arms, thus showing off his splendid muscles for his appreciative, if secret, audience. Sometimes Pythagoras caught Jason looking at him while he performed these strange feats and then he wondered if, in truth, Jason knew Pythagoras was awake and was in some way performing for his friend. Of course, Pythagoras could never ask as that would be to admit the initial deception. So they carried on; Jason with his strange morning rites, Pythagoras with his guilty watching pleasure. 

There was neither guilt nor pleasure attached to Pythagoras’s current Jason watching. Only pain.

Pain.

And then a bit more pain.

Jason allowed them only a short period of rest and then insisted they repeat the extensive circuit they had just completed. At the end of the second lap Hercules rebelled - collapsed, if you wanted to be strictly accurate about it. 

“Have some mercy,” begged Hercules, drawing the words out between gasps. He sat down heavily, wriggling on the hard ground to find the most comfortable spot, and responding to Jason’s advice about needing to stretch before relaxing with a rude swivelling gesture. He splashed water onto his flushed face. “You run. I’ll stay here and make sure that nobody steals our things.”

Jason looked disappointed, but did not press Hercules, even though there was clearly nothing but grass, rocks and trees for miles around. Anyone could see that the older man was genuinely exhausted. He turned to Pythagoras, with a hopeful expression. “Are you coming?”

“Must I?” asked Pythagoras, with marked lack of enthusiasm. He wondered if it was as comfortable on the ground as it looked – all soft and welcoming. Hercules had lain down completely and shut his eyes. His face wore an expression of bliss. Pythagoras wanted to look like that, too.

But Jason had scented weakness. “Is that a yes?” he wheedled. “Come on, Pythagoras, you wouldn’t make me go on my own. Something bad might happen to me. I might meet a monster.”

Pythagoras eyed him warily. “It’s a maybe. Give me a moment to rest. I’ve barely caught my breath from the last sprint. What kind of monster are you envisaging, anyway? And why would I want to run out and meet it with you?”

Jason jumped up and down a bit more. He clearly wanted to be moving again. “Please Pythagoras, just one more lap. The sooner we start. The sooner we finish.”

Jason pulled a face that clearly intended to look puppy-like and pleading. It didn’t. It looked more like a sulky toddler. But it was still irresistible. They both knew that Pythagoras could never say no to Jason, no matter what the request. He gave in and laughed. “Yes, alright, it’s a yes. Just like you knew it would be. But don’t expect me to race you to the finish.”

Jason grinned. “You’d lose anyway!” 

There should be something in the city laws that forbad a smile like that. It was beyond dangerous. When Jason smiled his whole face lit up. Unfortunately Pythagoras only had a moment to enjoy the sight before Jason took off again, covering the ground as if his feet were winged. 

Pythagoras thump-thumped along slowly in his friend’s wake trying not to let too much distance form between them and thus make it harder to appreciate the shapely rear view that Jason was offering him. It was rare that he could so openly stare. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity. He forced his tired legs to go a bit faster.

Jason’s arse was therefore wholly responsible for what happened next.

Pythagoras ran into a tree.

It wasn’t a big tree. But it was a definitely a tree. Pythagoras could swear that it hadn’t been there to be run into a moment earlier. The impact was a horrible shock and jolted him from pleasant Jason’s arse-filled daydreams into nasty face-full-of-tree-trunk reality.

Reality hurt. 

Pythagoras staggered back and fell over. The impact had knocked the breath right out of him and for some moments he was left lying on his back gasping for air like a landed fish. Only when he had remastered the art of breathing did he manage to sit up and take stock of his various injuries. These were not serious but they were numerous. The tree was of the rough bark and many needled-branches variety and Pythagoras was sporting a collection of tiny cuts and grazes from his face to his hips. They all stung. Some of the tiny needles were still sticking into his skin. His hands, which he had instinctively brought up to catch himself, were similarly damaged. The one consolation was that Jason was now out of sight and had not witnessed Pythagoras’s literal downfall.

He picked himself up, prepared a self-deprecating story about how he came to be so scuffed, and began to pick out the small sharp shards of vegetation. He had reached number thirty-five when a hand on his shoulder caused him to start upwards and emit an undignified squeak.

“Ow!” he yelped. “That hurt.”

“Sorry,” said Jason.

‘Oh great!’ thought Pythagoras. ‘Jason knows you’re a clumsy oaf; now show him how brave and manly you are!’

Jason had come up from behind with a water jug. He looked worried rather than amused. “I couldn’t see you. And then I did see you and you were on the ground. I should have stayed closer and not gone running off into the distance.” 

The concern in Jason’s voice gave Pythagoras a small warm feeling in the pit of stomach but even so he made haste to reassure his friend. “I’m fine. I only tripped a bit and bumped into a tree. There wasn’t much you could have done.”

Pythagoras stared at his feet hoped that Jason hadn’t seen the actual moment of tree contact. It was all too undignified.

“I could have moved the tree!” said Jason. Pythagoras looked up sharply at the tone. Jason didn’t look like he was joking. If anything he looked more concerned than ever now as he took in the extent of Pythagoras’s scrapes. “Here let’s clean those scratches.”

There was a cloth. And cool water. And Jason’s hands both firm and gentle, picking out the remaining splinters, and washing the blood away. It still stung like crazy but Pythagoras thought that if this lasted forever it might be a good way to spend eternity.

Eventually Jason ran out of needles and water and gave the cloth a final squeeze before dropping it into the jug.

“You’ll do,” he said, running an intent gaze over Pythagoras’s shoulders and chest and eying his handiwork critically. Pythagoras, who had relaxed somewhat during the cleaning process, felt himself stiffen under the renewed scrutiny. For a moment, Jason’s hands on his shoulders tightened and his breath hitched. Then he loosened his grip and took a step back. “We’ll wash all those cuts again when we get home. In the meantime it’s probably a good thing to let the air get to them.”

“Thanks,” said Pythagoras, adding ruefully, “I feel completely stupid.”

Jason smiled at that. “Well now you know how the rest of us feel around you all the time, clever clogs. It’s not easy being friends with a genius.”

“Should we run again?” Pythagoras asked, for something to say. Jason thought he was a genius! That was good, right?

“No.” said Jason, still watching him closely. “No more running. I think we’ve all had enough running for one day. Hercules certainly has. He was asleep when I went back for the water.”

“Should we wake him?”

“No,” said Jason. “Let him sleep for a while. I’m sure we can find something to do pass the time.”

Pythagoras looked at him blankly. Please gods not the push ups and the kicking stuff. He really didn’t feel he could take it.

But Jason was speaking again. “You know, where I come from sticking needles into the body is a form of medicine and some people pay good money to have it done. Admittedly not so extensively and a bit more targeted than you managed but the principle is there. We could be on to a money-spinner.”

“I don’t think it worked,” said Pythagoras ruefully. “Unless the needles meant to hurt a lot going in and still hurt after they come out. It’s probably a very limited market. Do you have anything else?”

“One more thing,” began Jason and stopped, his eyes alight with mischief. “It doesn’t cure anything but it is guaranteed to make you feel better.”

“What then?” asked Pythagoras with some trepidation.

“We kiss it better.”

“You.. kiss…” Pythagoras stumbled to a halt. That was what came of a life spent daydreaming. Your dreams spilled into reality and put words into people’s mouths.

“We. Kiss. It. Better,” repeated Jason slowly.

“Kiss it better?” echoed Pythagoras, just to make sure. Oh, there was no mistaking that look of invitation. Pythagoras tried and failed not to look eager. “Really? That’s a cure I’ve never heard of before. Much better than needles! I think I need a demonstration.”

Jason grinned. He looked oddly relieved. Surely he knew how Pythagoras felt? “Well, you have a lot of scrapes that need kissing but I suggest we start here.” He pulled Pythagoras close and sealed their lips in a lingering, open-mouthed kiss.

Pythagoras had a last coherent thought as he abandoned himself to the warm pressure of Jason’s mouth on his. Jason was correct. Keeping fit was vital. It was all a matter of finding the right exercise. And being properly receptive to new ideas.


End file.
